


Endlessly

by lisafyra



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisafyra/pseuds/lisafyra
Summary: After the first three back-to-back races in the 2020 season, Lando is more relieved than ever about the break - also because he and Carlos finally get some time to themselves and don't have to pretend that they're only good friends for a few days.However, there are some things that cannot be shaken off so easily, which damp the high spirits a little…(tw: homophobia)
Relationships: Lando Norris/Carlos Sainz Jr
Comments: 14
Kudos: 38





	Endlessly

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOD. Folks - (*please imagine a deep sigh here*)
> 
> I can't believe I'm really posting this today. Those of you who follow me on Tumblr (@hurtsprincess) might know that writing this story has not been the smoothest ride (especially compared to my Christmas-special, which felt as if it almost wrote itself, whoops!).
> 
> However, now I'm actually quite contented with how it turned out and I hope you like it, too ♥ - or more precisely, the first part of it: Because as it got (and still gets!) way longer again than planned, I decided to split it into two chapters.  
> This is why I also want to issue a warning in advance: This first bit will be really dark. If you need a happy ending right away after a lot of angst and emotional hurt, please come back to this story later when it's complete ♥

Only in his boxers and an old sleeping-T-shirt, Lando stood in front of the bathroom mirror and looked at himself with critic eyes, examining every inch of his face in the reflection - as far as the misted glass would allow, at least. The warmth and humidity from the shower he had previously taken were still in the room, making the ventilation struggle even more on today’s warm summer day and covering the mirror and wall tiles with a thin film of haze.

However, Lando didn’t bother to move and open the window for better air circulation. Instead, he had only briefly wiped a part of the mirror free, just enough that he could see himself, and had been sceptically eyeing his facial features ever since.

From what he could tell, he looked pretty much like he always did - well, maybe a bit more tired from the latest demanding days of racing. The last race week before the summer break somehow always happened to be extra-challenging, in all means.

Meanwhile Lando knew that from his time in other racing series. He was not superstitious enough to call it a “curse” or anything, but nonetheless, he also couldn’t deny that this part of the season always brought special surprises along. And _\- spoiler! -_ none of the good kind.

No matter if it was the tricky weather conditions in the European summer, ranging from extreme heat to thunderstorms and downpours, or just random new problems with the car in general, making you all of a sudden struggle to keep up with the other teams - the last weekend before the summer break had it all. It kind of reminded Lando of the feeling during the last days of school before the holidays, when everyone was already counting the hours in their heads until the eagerly anticipated last bell ring, but the teacher decided to hand out a mean last-minute-test.

Only with the difference that it wasn’t just about a bad grade in history class anymore, which you could just shrug at and then continue as if nothing had happened, because in the end, this test had almost zero effect on your life.

No, these times were over. They were competing in F1 here, the premier class of motorsport, and had to fight for the important and highly coveted championship points in _every single race,_ no matter what - not to mention the insane amount of money involved, also…

Nope, there definitely was no time for “little blunders” or “taking it easy” with summer break “just around the corner”, as you could do back in school - quite the contrary: The final race weekend in summer was rather one of the more stressful periods of the season, as nobody wanted to go into the holidays with a bad result, of course. Which was easier said than done with the jinxed twists and turns…!

So, even though they were all just yearning for the much-needed break at that point, wether it was drivers, mechanics or whoever else working in this sport, these days kept each and everyone on their toes - and it was no different this year either, even if, due to Covid, the season had started later this year and this had only been the third race. But also the third race in a triple header.

No wonder that he looked tired; and also that, as Lando much to his chagrin also noticed in the mirror, his acne was up to another breakout again. His jawline felt sore and itchy, and on his forehead and cheeks, there were already new red spots visible, literally gleaming in contrast to his typically British fair skin tone.

Lando took a deep breath, trying not to get upset about it. It was obvious that this would happen, as his skin had always been sensitive to stress and it had been stressful _indeed_ during the last days.

It had already started with his travel to the track on Thursday morning, actually, when one of their flights had been late by over an hour, which had left him and parts of the crew stuck at the airport, forced to sit around and wait, while the other half already was on their way as planned.

This alone wouldn’t have been too bad, since Lando meanwhile had done enough of traveling that he could tell a thing or two about belated flights, and he knew that it could happen from time to time - and as long as he had his phone with him, he knew how to keep himself entertained during the wait.

But unfortunately, it was holiday season in the UK and even despite the pandemic, there had been quite a lot of people at the airport; and since he had been with an entourage of people in McLaren clothing, it had not taken long until he had got recognised and asked for a selfie for the first time.

And as always, once the ball was rolling, it almost didn’t stop anymore.

Deep down, Lando knew, of course, that he was perfectly entitled to say no and ask to be left alone, but he was too shy and also far too polite to do so. After all, he knew for himself how much it could mean to meet one of your “idols” - although Lando certainly did not see himself as one, not at all. Like - how on earth would anybody in their right mind would look up to _him?_ He still didn’t get that.

Nonetheless, he didn’t want to make anyone sad by rejecting their request, especially not in these weird times they lived in at the moment, and so he had found himself taking socially distanced pictures and signing all sorts of things instead of just relaxedly listening to music or watching a series on his phone.

So in the end, when they finally had got onto the plane, after yet another rescheduling of half an hour, Lando had felt drained and rattled and just had not wanted to hear or see anything anymore.

Bad luck that they had been on the way to a F1 Grand Prix, so this wish of his had not been granted - the “real” work hadn’t even begun yet.

Again, he didn’t believe in curses or spells or anything, but this already should have been a warning to him. Because from then on, the misfortune had run like a golden thread through his week.

From the moment he had got off the plane in Hungary, he had been late for pretty much everything - much to the displeasure of Andreas, who hadn’t been in the best of moods either because of the unfortunate separation of the team and had mumbled some annoyed comments from under his mask. Lando knew that he shouldn’t have taken his boss’ anger personally, because he definitely was not to blame for a belated plane in times of a worldwide pandemic, but still, it had weighed on him.

So he had even more tried to regain the lost time.

Both rushing and excusing himself through all the appointments, in the desperate attempt to catch up with the schedule again, Lando had felt as if he had been ran over by a tractor in the evening, laying on his hotel bed with his arms and legs spread like a starfish. But what had been more upsetting than his overall exhaustion, was that he had barely shared a minute in private with Carlos throughout the whole day.

The Spaniard had been on the first plane, the one that had taken off punctually, and because almost two hours were _a lot_ in terms of F1 schedules, they simply hadn’t had any spare time for each other after Lando’s belated arrival.

And to make it even worse, they also hadn’t shared a hotel room this time due to Covid regulations, so there had not even been overnight cuddles to make up for it - no, definitely not the start into the weekend that Lando had imagined.

However, fate hadn’t shown more mercy on Friday either, as the Hungarian weather apparently had decided to give them a wild show of everything it was capable off for their free practice sessions. In the end, Carlos and him hadn’t done too bad, finishing in the upper half of the standings, but as always with mixed conditions, the results hadn’t been really meaningful.

On Saturday, though, there had been a shimmer of hope, when the skies had brightened up shortly before the qualifying and both Carlos and Lando had made it into Q3, saving P8 (Lando) and P9 (Carlos) for themselves. This had given not only Lando, but the whole team an uplift after all the tension and just utter chaos of the day before-

But true to the saying: “Don't start celebrating too early!”, it hadn’t been too much of a surprise, when the rain had made its comeback again on Sunday, turning already the way to the grid into quite a slippery affair. Lando clearly remembered thinking _“Oh fuck, hopefully I don’t screw this up…!”_ during the formation lap, since he hadn’t done a lot of starts in wet conditions so far. He had tried to practice it during the sessions on Friday as well as possible, but of course it wasn’t the same as a real race start. He had only been able to hope that it would work.

But again - this had been the last race before the summer break. Things work out differently here.

So when the lights had gone out, the inevitable had happened: Probably trying too determinedly to nail the start, Lando had suffered wheel-spin, causing the other cars to pass him by with ease and making him fall far behind even before the first lap had been over.

He didn’t know how many positions he had lost by the start, but it had been too many to excuse, for sure - his _overall performance_ had been hard to excuse. Because even if the track had dried up quickly and there also hadn’t been any new rain for the rest of the race, Lando had still struggled to recover from his disastrous start. Although the car itself had felt good during the race, he just hadn’t been able to push enough in order to gain the lost positions back.

And so the newly minted podium finisher from two weeks ago had finished the race on a disappointing P13, ending this weekend the same way it had begun: _thoroughly crappy._

The only consolation had been that at least Carlos had done his job for the day and had brought P9 home, earning leastwise two points for the team. But knowing that it could have easily been six; _six_ well-needed points in the constructor’s championship, if he had just held his position from qualifying, still peeved Lando. Not even Carlos’ kind attempts to cheer him up again couldn't change that.

The older one had told him not to be too hard on himself, as this could have happened to anyone - especially in only your second season in F1! -, and also the team had tried to encourage him that he’d just fight back stronger next time and that he had done a good job afterwards, given the tough conditions out there. Even Andreas gave him a not-too-grumpy high 5 when he came into the garage during the pack-up, mumbling something like “More luck next time!”, before he was gone again.

So Lando should have actually known that nobody on the team was as strict with him as he himself.

However, he was very relieved when they were just able to leave both the track and the country in the early evening and parted ways for the next week and a half, everyone going into the small summer break of 2020 on their own - and it presumably wasn’t only him alone who had thought so. This last racing weekend had pushed them to the very limits altogether and for sure there hadn’t been anyone _not_ glad about that it was over.

So - no wonder that Lando saw the pimples sprouting like crazy on his face now. His skin definitely had got enough reasons to be furious over Sunday alone and probably the little sleep because of all the traveling had also done its part.

With a deep sigh, he turned away from his reflection and reached for his phone and headphones instead, which he had left on the washstand during his shower. With one hand, he put the earbuds in, while with the other he was already flicking through Spotify, looking for a playlist to suit his mood. He curtly went for the first one that caught his interest - “Grey Skies of London” - and started it on shuffle, before he then proceeded to cleanse his face with the various skin care products he owned, hoping it would prevent the worst.

Even if he (thank God!) didn’t have to face any TV cameras anymore for the next one-and-a-half weeks, he still didn’t want to look like shit meanwhile. It was bad enough already; but he knew by now that it could always get even worse. Because acne was a fucking bitch and there was no point in arguing with it - he’d always lose.

And as the wiser head gives in, Lando started to apply the facial toner while listening to the first song of the playlist. He didn’t know it, but from what he could tell after the first seconds, it sounded okay, so he just let it play while trying to soothe the worst spots with the cooling liquid. And in the process he found himself thinking how weird all this was.

Beforehand, he had expected that now, two days past the Grand Prix at the Hungaroring, he’d be all relaxed and happy about the break and that he would have a great time. Even if the summer break was shorter this year and he, because of Covid regulations, hadn’t really made plans for it before, Lando had still looked forward to it a lot: To being back in the UK, to getting to sleep late again for a few days, at least, and to having some time to clear his mind after this first triple header; probably doing some more streaming, which he didn’t have any time for since the rushed start of the season - but above all, he had been looking forward to be able to spend time with Carlos again.

Like - _with him only._ After having to share the Spaniard for three weeks straight now, and not seeing each other in person for the three months before, Lando had been utterly thrilled at the prospect to finally have him all to himself again; without anybody disturbing them for PR appearances and debriefs and other bullshit, or having to worry that anybody could watch them getting too close to be still appropriate for teammates.

Because what nobody knew was that, even though they acted as those in public - _teammates_ -, they weren’t only that. They were more. _Closer_.

What had started out as a beautiful friendship last year had somehow turned into an even sweeter romance, so that they were no longer just friends, but _boyfriends_.

Not that anybody knew, though, as they had decided to rather keep it a sweet, little secret for now. There… simply hadn’t been the right time to open up, with the off-season, the holidays and then already Covid, practically, which had turned the whole world upside down in general - no, definitely not the right setting to announce your relationship. Especially when you have been involuntarily separated from your said significant other during lockdown…

So, even half a year in their relationship, they had neither told their families nor the team about themselves yet, and also not that they would spend their summer holidays together, with Lando staying at Carlos’ place in London. But that was rather because they still weren’t exactly sure if they even were allowed to do so, given the strict Covid regulations of the FIA and their separated accommodations at the race track, in the attempt to minimise the damage for the team if one of them should get infected-

However, as they had thoroughly been tested negative during the last weekend and would stay away from any other people, so it would really only be the two of them, they just hoped it would be okay; or that they would get away with a ticking-off by Andreas, worst case.

And screw it, that was a risk Lando had been willing to take. For no reason would he have refrained from these few days with Carlos alone. Heck, he had counted the days to their “holidays” even more enthusiastically than he had to the season opener!

So, yeah, it was safe to say that he had _really_ been looking forward to this, supposing that he’d be over the moon by now, just because he finally was able to spend time with his boyfriend again after the rough past weeks-

But - he wasn’t happy. To be honest, he felt like shit and the bad state of his skin reflected that like nothing else. _Of course it did._

Lando snorted, still carefully dabbing the soaked cotton pad over his forehead and the many new blemishes on it. Oh Lord, he hated this so, so very much. He always felt even younger when his face went into rampage mode like his, making him look as if he had just newly hit puberty instead of being 20. A part of him just really wanted to yell at his bad skin, telling it that it should get its shit together and grow the fuck up - but of course, he knew that it was pointless. Hollering at yourself was not the most highly recommended treatment for acne.

And moreover he knew that, deep inside, his anger wasn’t even about the pimples and blackheads and also that it wasn’t only the stress of the latest weekend what weighed on him so much.

His problem was not his skin blemishes, but rather his face, his body in general. His definitely male body.

Not that he secretly wished to be a woman; he was happy with the way it was - but he also couldn’t deny that it would be so much easier otherwise. Because, even if it hurt to think about it, Carlos wouldn’t have made such as fuss then this afternoon…

***

_“WOW!” - the exclamation slipped from Lando’s mouth with no chance to hold it back, as he took in the view of the chalk cliffs right in front of him._

_Carlos chuckled from behind, as he closed up to him._

_“I told you you’d like it!”, the Spaniard reminded him, though Lando was barely listening - he just couldn’t take his glance off the impressive coast line, which seemed to not only stretch for miles and miles, but to infinity and beyond, and so did the grassland, the ocean and the sky. He was truly blown away by the overall vastness, as he had never ever before had so much… well, just plain_ space _around himself. Like, freedom in every possible direction, right, left, above and below._

_Watching how wave after wave broke into the beach below the cliffs, Lando just managed to absently nod in admission, already going: “Yes, but…”, but was too speechless to finish the sentence._

_It was true, he hadn’t been the too enthusiastic when Carlos had suggested paying the legendary Seven Sisters a visit. He had never been much of an outdoors-guy and thus he hadn’t really understood why Carlos wanted to go there so badly, particularly in those few days off they had now. If it had been up to Lando, they’d have entrenched in the Spaniard’s flat and just spend most of their time in bed, alternately cuddling all innocently and making-out, maybe watching a movie or playing some FIFA - oh, and golfing, of course. But in no way had he thought of a hiking day trip, when he had imagined their holidays. Especially considering that it was a solid two-hour-drive from London! Like - so much effort just for some… cliffs?_

_Although Carlos had reassured him multiple times that it’d be worth it, Lando had remained sceptical inside, even still during the car ride, while Carlos had become more excited the closer they came to their destination. If Lando was honest, he had only agreed to this whole thing to make him happy, actually; making compromises, as you do in relationships-_

_But now that they were really here, on top of the more than 100 tall cliffs, he definitely got an idea of why the older one had wanted to come. Even if it wasn’t the brightest of days (simply typical British summer weather!), this place was stunning and Lando was relieved that his boyfriend had not given up, but persuaded him to give it a try - because he’d have really missed out on something otherwise._

_Still overwhelmed by the beauty of the vast land, he deliberately took a deep breath, inhaling the heavy, salty air, the smell of damp grass and sand, and once more let his gaze wander over the horizon, all the way following the narrow line between sky and sea until his eyes found Carlos next to him._

_The Spaniard was also a little caught in the moment, as it seemed, as he stood there with his backpack on, his hands holding onto the belts, while silently admiring the surge of waves beneath them. The wind playfully ruffled through his dark hair and Lando couldn’t help but feel his lips curl up in a smile at this view._

_Oh yes, he would have_ definitely _missed out on something otherwise…!_

_And also apart from how these natural surroundings suited Carlos a lot and made him look even more handsome, it was a beautiful day out in the countryside. Though the Seven Sisters were a famous spot, the grassland was so vast that it was far from crowded. Quite the contrary, it felt as if there were rarely any other people around, as they all were only visible as schemes in the distance, leaving Carlos and Lando almost on their own, as it felt._

_The two of them walked around a bit, without a real destination, just to soak in the beauty of this place. There also was an old lighthouse at the beach below, which looked really cool. But as they could also see, there were definitely more people down there, gathering around the tower like little ants, so they decided to leave the lighthouse be and just walk the top of the cliffs - though they carefully kept distance to the crumbly edges, like the warning signs told them._

_However, that didn’t stop Lando in his amazement. Even with the safety clearance, he took so many pictures of the scenery that his phone battery went down in no time, much to Carlos’ amusement: For the rest of the day, the older one joked around how Lando had first needed some bloke from Spain to show him the best places of his own home country._

_In his defense, Lando half-heartedly countered that the car ride from Somerset would have been even longer than from London and that this was why his family had never come here before - but deep down, he knew that Carlos was right, because even if his parents had planned such a trip, his younger self probably would have whined and complained so much in advance, until they had allowed him to stay at home, by his computer games._

_Again, he had never been an outdoors-guy and he still wasn’t - at least not to the extent that Carlos and his family were, with all their hiking and fishing and…_ whatever else _you do outside, he had no clue -, but this now was thoroughly nice, he had to admit that._

_The highlight of their trip, though, was when Carlos, after they had been strolling around and chatting for what must have been more than an hour, suddenly stopped and took off his backpack - only to, totally to Lando’s surprise, pull out a picnic blanket and some sandwiches out from it! The younger one had been truly blown away by the idea, as he definitely had not seen that coming! Well, how should he, even, as he had been too busy taking pictures every three steps or so to even notice any signs of hunger… however, watching Carlos prepare the improvised lunch, he suddenly felt his stomach growling in protest and was delighted about his boyfriend’s caring nature. (Not least because he himself hadn’t even thought about packing anything for lunch and probably only had an old granola bar or something in his backpack.)_

_Not to talk about the romantic touch a picnic by the sea had…_

_As their gaze met and Lando looked at his Spaniard with his eyes full of love and affection and utter gratefulness, Carlos just amusedly rolled his eyes._

_“C’mon, don’t pretend you don’t know meanwhile. It’s my duty as your boyfriend to make sure you don’t starve to death”, he said with a wink, before he sat down and patted on the blanket right next to him. “Join me?” - not a question that Lando had to be asked twice._

_So for the next minutes, they just sat there, slumping on the picnic blanket with an outstanding view over the ocean, and enjoyed their sandwiches in placid silence. The only noises came from the seagulls circling high above their heads, screeching and squealing, and from the wind breezing towards the shore every now and then, carrying the salty smell of the sea._

_It was the most perfect lunch-break Lando had ever had, in all means._

_When they had almost finished their sandwiches, the sky even cleared up a bit, allowing the sun to stretch its rays through the clouds for at least some time and making the view even more beautiful. And because they hadn’t done that yet, it was in this moment that they decided to take a souvenir photo together._

_Because Lando’s battery meanwhile was plain dead, Carlos was the one who took the picture, with his phone - which was also fortunate because he was not only older than Lando, but also taller and had longer arms, so that he could hold the phone farer away from them and capture more of the scenery around as well._

_But even if the cliffs and the sea in the background indeed looked stunning in the photo - they even caught a seagull flying across! -, the true highlight was right in the centre, where Lando had his arms wrapped around Carlos’ waist and trustingly leaned his head against his boyfriend’s neck, while the both of them were beaming from ear to ear into the camera._

_And their smiles were just as broadly when they took a look at the picture in the next second; at their first real couple-selfie. Lando couldn’t help but feel his chest warm up with love and affection, as he looked their happy faces on Carlos’ phone screen, still leaning in close to the Spaniard._

_Never before had he seen themselves as a couple from the perspective of a third person, but oh, he loved it. He truly loved how they looked together. And above all, he loved the way that his boyfriend had wrapped his other arm, that had not been holding the phone, protectively around his shoulders in the picture, pulling him close as well. Because knowing how amazing it felt, when Carlos did that, was one thing, but figuratively seeing it black on white - that was a whole other thing. Almost like evidence that he hadn’t been dreaming over the last months, but that their relationship was really a thing. No wonder he was head over heels in love with the selfie instantly._

_“You need to send it to me”, he told Carlos, because he definitely needed this photo on his own phone, too. Without a doubt, looking at this picture alone would be able to help him trough the more stressful days like before the summer break, allowing him to channel the feeling of this beautiful and carefree day whenever he needed a cheer-up._

_Carlos nodded right away. “Yeah, of course!”, he went. “But… I’m afraid, I can first do it when we are home. No signal here.”_

_He shrugged with an almost apologetic, yet incredibly gorgeous smile, but Lando didn’t really notice it, as he startled at the Spaniard’s last words: No signal? They had no signal up here?_

_Well, not that it was that much of a surprise, given how far off the beaten track this place here was - but what did indeed surprise him was that hadn’t even noticed it when his own phone had still been working. And further, that he also didn’t even mind it._

_Not that long ago, he had always claimed mobile reception wherever he went, and most importantly WiFi, to always have the option to disappear into the depths of the internet whenever he needed a timeout from the real world - but ever since they had arrived at the cliffs, he hadn’t even been thinking about any of that, as he realised only now. Because he didn’t need WiFi when he was with Carlos - a state of affairs that he had never believed to ever,_ ever _be possible for him; and yet it was._

_It was amazing how much being with the right person can change you, or more rather allows you to change all by yourself, Lando thought, and this realisation still ran through his head when they were back at home again - or more precisely: back in Carlos’ flat, but which felt like a second home to the Briton. Not only because he had spent a lot of time here since last year and therefore knew these four walls almost as well as his own in Woking - no, he was sure he’d also like Carlos’ place in Maranello next year, even though he hadn’t seen it for real yet, only on pictures. But he already knew he’d like it there, too._

_Instinctively, Lando looked up from his seat on the couch and eyed the Spaniard through the doorway to the kitchen, watching how he was preparing them two cups of tea. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Any place would feel like home, as long as Carlos was there with him together._

_Smiling to himself full of love, Lando continued to swipe through all the pictures he had taken today, with his phone plugged in at the power socket next to the couch and him halfway slumping over the armrest, as the charger cable was too short to sit back properly._

_This had really been a perfect day._

_After their picnic, they had stayed for quite a while longer, before the weather had changed and British summer had shown its most popular face again - speaking of drizzle. Not dressed in anything waterproof, the two of them curtly had fled back to the car, which had almost felt like one of their morning jogs, as during their stay, they had moved further from the parking lot than expected. So when they finally had arrived at the car, they had both been quite drenched from the fine rain, with their hair sticking to their foreheads and their trousers clammy, and also tired from all the walking they had done today - but in a “tired, but happy”-kind of way, with exhausted smiles still on both of their faces._

_And scrolling through his camera roll rekindled this feeling in Lando. Of course he had massively overdone it with the pictures in his astonishment, as there was probably barely an inch of the Seven Sisters that he had not photographed. Nevertheless, some of them looked really good, as he had to admit to himself, and it was a shame that he couldn’t post them. Because even if he chose one without Carlos in it, his followers would veeeery likely get suspicious over such a picture: Like, Lando Norris voluntarily leaving the house, spending his time full of #naturelove instead of online? Who would_ not _sense something fishy to this?_

_So - better not risk anything just to level-up his Instagram-game._

_Nevertheless, Lando proceeded to save his favourite shots from today in a new album on his phone - maybe he’d use them for something else in the future or might even get a few printed or something, as a wall decoration for his flat, as they did indeed look really nice. But one of them stood out by miles, of course:_

_“This one is so gorgeous”, Lando said to his boyfriend, when the Spaniard just joined him in the living room, balancing two steaming mugs with fresh tea and a bowl of chocolate chip cookies in his hands. Lando curtly turned his phone, so that the older one could see what he was talking about, and it caused him to instantly smile, too._

_“Yeah, it is!”, he agreed, as he set their beverages on the little couch table, as well as the cookies, at which Lando looked with utter delight._

Screw you, diet plan! Summer break it is!, _he thought with relish and grabbed himself one, settling back, before turning his eyes to the display again._

_“Wanted to change my home-screen anyway”, he babbled to himself while chewing, busily tapping on the screen - oh wow, the cookie was delicious! “So now I finally know what picture I’ll take…”_

_But before he could put said settings into effect, all of a sudden Carlos’ hand shot out and held him back, clasping both his fingers and the phone._

_“No!”, the Spaniard said with his eyes wide from horror, half sitting on the couch, half standing from his abrupt leap to his feet. “You can’t do that!”_

_His gaze flickered over Lando’s face with visible unease, and he swallowed nervously. “What- what if someone sees it?” - causing the Briton to frown._

_“Uhm- who do you think should happen to see it?”, he asked back, both surprised and perplexed at the reaction of his boyfriend, who had jumped at him almost as if he had threatened to set the house on fire with just one tap on his phone. For the first split second, he had actually believed this to be a joke or something, like, that he shouldn’t make it his home screen because the picture looked so sweet that it would give Lando tooth decay if he looked at it too often - but Carlos’ expression gave away that he was not joking. He was all serious._

_Reflexively, Lando wriggled his fingers out of the strong grip, and placed his hand on top of Carlos’ instead, soothingly stroking the warm skin._

_“It’s just my home-screen, not a profile pic on Instagram or anything”, he said, in the attempt to assuage his worries, because he exactly knew the point the older one was driving at. “Just my home-screen, no big deal. Other couples do that all the time-”_

_This time it was Carlos who withdrew from the physical contact by pulling his hand away. “But we_ are not _like other couples”, he brought to Lando’s mind again and the upfront reminder hit him hard, like a slap in the face, which caused his cheeks burn with both shame and pain as if he had really caught one._

_Carlos didn’t stop, though._

_“If someone sees it, it_ will _be a big deal. It was risky that we took it at all, and you know that! We_ talked _about that!”, he went on with this particular tone in his voice, that he always had when he played the I’m-the-older-one-card. He rarely did it, to be fair, but Lando hated it every single time - and especially in this affair it caused him to clench his fists, grasping his phone so hard he was about to break it, almost._

 _“Yeah, but it’s_ just my home-screen, _Carlos, not even my_ lock-screen!”, _he replied, speaking extra-clearly as he tried to explain his point again, but at the same time, he felt himself getting angry at his boyfriend. “I don’t wanna post it or anything, it’s just on my phone-”_

_“But what if somebody steals it?”, Carlos cut in. “Or if you lose it, even?”, causing Lando to gasp in disbelief - he did not really say that, did he?!_

_“So you say, if I lose my phone and someone cracks my pin code and then has access to…_ everything _on it, like phone numbers and addresses from_ people-”

_He meaningfully raised his eyebrows, leaving no doubt that he was not referring to old school friends, but to other people of public interest like the both of them themselves._

_“-and my payment details and confidential team-matters - and you’re really saying that from all that, our biggest problem then is my fucking home-screen picture, in which_ I am hugging you?!”

_And as much as Lando had hoped that Carlos would contradict him on that - the seconds of silence afterwards told him otherwise; and it felt right like another slap. This one hurt even more._

_Unable to believe this was really happening right now, that they for real had come to_ this _point, Lando shook his head, just blank staring back at these chocolate brown eyes that he normally adored so much, but which in this moment didn’t evoke any love in him._

_“Wow. Just wow, Carlos”, he snorted and looked away, utterly speechless from disappointment, trying to get over how much his boyfriend feared to be revealed as exactly that: His boyfriend._

_Carlos let out a painful sigh. “Lando-”, he wanted to start and reached for his hand again, but Lando didn’t let him:_

_Abruptly turning his head back to Carlos, he shot him a sharp look. “You know what? Fine. No home-screen photo then”, he said. But even if his words alone were exactly what the older one wanted to hear, the way that Lando almost hissed them was far away from compassion and understanding; and so was also his piercing glance, under which Carlos turned into a picture of misery, his face flooded with regret and sorrow about their situation as well._

_None of them was to blame for it, neither he himself nor Carlos, but Lando was not in the mood to make peace now. He actually had to bite his lip not to say anything he might later regret because of his own hurt. So he just shook his head again and forced himself to look away, away from Carlos. “If you feel better this way ..._ fine.” - _though his voice and expression and overall body language gave away how it was everything except_ fine, _of course - but not in hell would he admit how much all this hurt him._

_Carlos shifted in his seat, making moves to scoot closer to him. “Lando, listen-”_

_“I said it’s_ FINE _, for God’s sake!”_

_For a few seconds, the both of them were frozen in place and looked at each other with wide eyes, in shock about how Lando had raised his voice and about their argument in general, as they had never had a proper couple fight before-_

_Swallowing hard on his disappointment, Lando clenched his teeth. As he had never been in a serious relationship before and thus also never had had a fight with his significant other, he didn’t really know what to say or do now. But what he knew was that he definitely couldn’t stand the closeness to Carlos anymore; neither physically nor through his look, as he felt the older one’s eyes lying on him with more pity and compassion than he could bear right now._

_So Lando broke free from his rigidity first, clapping his hands on his thighs. “Well- now that that’s cleared…”_

_With a swift move, he stood up from the couch, almost jumping to his feet._

_“Mind if I take a shower?”, he curtly asked as basic decency required, since this wasn’t his place, but he didn’t look at Carlos meanwhile - he just couldn’t._

_From the corner of his eye, Lando saw him shaking his head. “No-”_

_“Good.”_

_And with this, he already rushed out of the room._

***

Lando watched in the mirror how his eyes filled with tears at the painful memory of the horrendous end to what had been supposed to be a nice day out with his boyfriend.

Out of reflex, he bit on his lower lip in the attempt to fucking stop it from quivering and to pull himself together, bit so hard that it hurt. He didn’t want to cry about this anymore, as it wouldn’t change things anyway, it never did - but also because he, deep down, knew why Carlos had acted like this. The Spaniard had been right: They _had_ talked it through so often; countless times, actually, all melting together in his head now.

It wasn’t just that they hadn’t found the right time to announce their relationship - in the course of the six months that they now were together, there certainly would have been at least _one_ decent opportunity to do so, even despite Covid lockdown and anything. At least towards their families and friends, the people who naturally love to see you happy more than anything else.

So, no, it wasn’t just that.

It was also - or actually even more - that it wouldn’t just be the announcement of their relationship for them, but a coming-out as well.

To be fair, Lando wasn’t too confident about a complete coming-out to the public either and found the thought rather scary at the moment, but he would have really liked to tell their family and friends. And although he felt like 99.99% certain that these close people, their inner circles, wouldn’t mind and would only be happy for them, and had loved to tell them right away from the moment that they had got together… Carlos had not shared his point of view when this topic had come up for the first time.

With a sceptical frown on his gorgeous face that Lando still remembered lively, the Spaniard had only reminded him of something else instead: That it would presumably not stay just between their closest people for long.

It was without doubt that, if they started to act as a couple somewhere other than the safe, four walls of their flats and when it was just the two of them, it would only be a matter of time until someone who they did _not_ want to know spotted them; maybe holding hands or even stealing a little kiss from the other - or, different scenario, but same outcome: Until someone who was in the know would accidentally bluster their secret out. And, intentioned or not, before they’d know, their romantic attachment would be on everyone’s lips, thanks to the internet, which helped gossip to spread faster than ever-

And nobody knew what would happen then.

Wether it would be people making fun of them, trolls spreading hateful comments on their social media profiles (…or to the contrary, people obsessing with their relationship and stalking them down to zero privacy) or just that they’d might have to do a lot of kitschy, barely-racing-related-couple-interviews with the press then - on from the moment their relationship becomes public, the whole thing would be unstoppable, with unknown consequences for their both racing careers, as Carlos had added for consideration.

And as much as Lando hated to just think about it, the older one was right with his objection.

Because in times where words like “gay” were used as insults and where being in love with someone of the same sex still too often generated disapproval and shit talk, it was safer to stay in the closet - especially when you lived in the public eye, like the two of them inevitably did with their profession in F1.

Even in 2020, with the world apparently being so extremely tolerant and open-minded, there still was a heavy stigma around being gay in professional sports - not to talk about being gay _with your teammate…! -_ that it worried the two of them.

Especially with Carlos moving to Ferrari for the next season. The older one feared that, due to the strong catholic influence in the countryside in Italy and the traditional, legendary status of the Ferrari brand, he’d be given a hard time at his new team if he was openly gay. And understandably enough, he of course didn’t want to arise any controversy about himself already beforehand.

They knew that no team could drop them just because they were gay. However, they both were worried of other ways that their shared dream of winning the championship could be over before it even began, like losing important sponsorships or falling from favour with the fans - and they just couldn’t let that happen. Not after they had worked so hard to even _get into_ F1 and still gave their everything to become one of the top-drivers.

And so, whether they liked it or not, they had decided to refrain from any public affection, telling neither the team nor their families and friends that they had been sharing a sweet little something over the past months and staying completely undercover - even if it was _fucking_ hard, at least for Lando.

He definitely suffered more from the situation than Carlos. It was beyond question that the older one was the main driving force behind their hiding, and that he probably also was quite comfortable with where they were now - because Lando sensed that an outing as such, even only towards their families, would be a way bigger deal for the Spaniard than for him:

Whereas Lando had somehow always known to himself that he preferred boys and half of him also believed that his mother might already suspect a thing, Carlos for his part had only had girlfriends before, also before he was in the public eye as a racing driver -so it was probable that no-one in his family or of his friends had a clue and the surprise effect would surely be bigger on his side.

And although Lando couldn’t imagine that his parents or sisters would seriously mind him being in love with another guy, based on the few times he had met them in the paddock, he understood that Carlos was nervous to speak up. Like, of course he could, a part of himself was still nervous, too, at the thought - you just don’t come out to your parents on a daily basis, do you?

However, if it had only been that, like a normal bit of frazzled nerves, they would have already managed to sort it out by now - they surely would. Just by talking about it, Lando would presumably have been able to resolve his boyfriend doubts, convincing him that their relationship status wouldn’t necessarily leak out to the public as soon as they told their families, nor that it would have to become known _at all,_ as long as they were a little extra-careful.

It surely wouldn’t have been easy, but Lando was confident that, with just some time and even more encouraging words, he’d have won Carlos over for his idea of a partial coming-out, which he found a pretty good idea.

But assuming from how determinedly the Spaniard blocked such talk off and instead only over and over again reminded Lando of all the consequences if things should go wrong, it seemed that he was not only nervous, but downright _scared_ about it - scared to let anybody know, even his family, and although all the reasons he named against their outing were valid, for Lando, it rather felt as if he only used them as excuses meanwhile-

As if he was actually ashamed of being in a relationship with him, _another guy._

Quickly, Lando took his gaze off his reflection and lowered his head, as a sharp, pulling pain flashed through his ribcage and squeezed both the air out of his lungs and the tears of his eyes. Taking his chin to the chest, he supported himself on the washbasin with shaking arms, as he tried to breathe through, the music on his head phones still playing on.

He had fought this demon so often now and had always nipped such thoughts in the bud, immediately reminding himself that Carlos really loved him, too, and would never-ever be ashamed of their relationship, that it all was just so new for him - but after what had just happened tonight, Lando wasn’t so sure anymore. And this little moment of doubt was already enough to let the dark beast in his chest soar; and although he hastily tried to push it back to where it came from in the next second - he couldn’t do it, not this time.

Once awoken, the pain in his soul was unwilling to go back to sleep again, and so overwhelmingly strong that it caused Lando to tremble, tears dripping into the sink as his eyes overflowed against his will, with no chance to hold back anymore.

It was too much, just too much for one person to bear. It had always been, and he had wished so hard to be able to reach out and talk to someone about it - not really in the endeavour to get useful advice, but just to get those things off his chest for once.

Sometimes, he had been close to doing it - when his mother had unknowingly phoned him on a rather bad day and had asked wether he was doing alright, for example, or when Jon had repeatedly pointed out how tensed his shoulders were again and that he should do some more relaxation exercises.

But Lando had always last minute stopped himself from spilling the beans - because he had promised Carlos not to tell anyone and he didn’t want to betray his trust, as you do with your loved ones.

So he had tried to get to terms with all this on his own instead, and- well, that’s what came of it:

There he was now, standing in the Spaniard’s bathroom, quietly crying to himself, and couldn’t help but think about how, if he was a girl, Carlos wouldn’t have forbid him to use their selfie as his phone background. More probable, he might have voluntarily _posted it to Instagram,_ all by himself, with a stupidly lovestruck caption like “Quality time with my ♥♥” and would have even proudly tagged him in it, so that everybody could see they were a couple.

Lando snorted bitterly, whilst more and more tears left wet trails on his skin.

Oh, how beautiful life must be if he was just another WAG, just some pretty-to-look-at attachment to the side of Carlos Sainz jr.! How amazing it sounded to be able to just… live their lives together, unmolested, with no scandal press except for maybe a too revealing vacation snap or anything, and without anybody raising an eyebrow when he accompanied his handsome man to any ceremonial occasions and events - or when he joined him on family celebrations, naturally sitting next to each other at the big table, with his hand resting safely in Carlos’ in his lap-

But- it wasn’t like that. He wasn’t Carlos’ stunning model-girlfriend. He was Lando, his nerdy little teammate in McLaren. _A guy._ And he’d always be, no matter what. And thus, there was no chance for him to achieve what he dreamt of the most: Of all-officially being Carlos Sainz’ significant other.

Of being able to hold his hand in public, to kiss him on the cheek whenever he wanted to; to comment every single Instagram post of his boyfriend with heart emojis and write corny captions to their selfies, for fuck’s sake, he wanted to be able to just post an innocent selfie of the two of them without having to worry that anyone might find out they were attached and do shit with it!

Lando felt his insides cramp, as he painfully faced the inevitable, unchangeable facts again - the irresolvable situation they were in.

Damn it, that was not how he had expected his first ever “real” relationship to be like, not at all.

He didn’t want to be Carlos’ dirty little secret; like, good enough for the stuff they did in bed and for when they were alone, but not worth a second look as soon as there were other people who might maybe, possibly, notice a thing and could spread rumors about them being - gasp! - _gay._

He knew that it was the anger and frustration speaking out of him; it wasn’t like this, actually, and neither did he think that Carlos thoroughly _liked_ the current state of affairs, but would rather live in a world where they could both be openly in love, without having to fear any consequences or even harm, too - but that didn’t change how much he, Lando, suffered from it. From how things _were,_ in reality.

He was not the type of person for secrets, never had been. Most of the time he blurted them out by accident, even if he had promised not to tell anything with all his heart, as he usually spoke before thinking. But as he could not afford that on this regard - Carlos had brought that out clearly enough, Lando always had to be so careful about what he said or posted or tweeted or whatever - and it was wearing him out.

He was tired of all the hiding, of separated hotel rooms and missing Carlos’ near during the race weekends; of pretending to be single and even to be interested in any one those wanna-be models from Instagram, or any other girls that tried flirting with him; tired of not being able to share his happiness with anybody and of constantly having to watch his mouth as he talked, to not let anything suspicious slip from his tongue. Tired of leading a double-life, with both parts not what he wanted.

And his standards weren't even particularly high - he just wanted to have the life other couples had. A boyfriend that without hesitation loved him back also when others were watching. A relationship that didn’t feel like he should be ashamed of it. One that he didn’t have to deny in interviews, when he was repeatedly asked _iF hE HaD a GiRlFrIeNd ThEn?!_

Was it too much to ask for, after more than six months that they had been playing this sick version of hide-and-(hope-nobody-will-)seek now?

Of course, the thought of literally putting themselves out there scared him, too, of that the public might get wind of what it was between them, especially after that Carlos had repeatedly reminded him of the consequences - but he was willing to chance it, for their both happiness.

Not that he would call himself a fully risk taker, but he had never been much of a safety-first-and-above-everything-guy either. For God’s sake, they were professional racing drivers, such things as one hundred-percent-securities didn’t even exist in their world!

All the more it confused him that his boyfriend was so keen on staying on the safe side in this regard.

Again, one half of Lando believed that maybe it’d help if they talked it through again, like _seriously_ talked. Not half-heartedly in passing, but all calmly and openly, without blocking off or anything. He really though that such a conversation could presumably ease Carlos’ worries and maybe they’d even figure out a middle course together that they were both comfortable with.

But on the other hand, Lando also didn’t want to pressurise his boyfriend into anything. Because there was only one thing bigger than how much he suffered from all the secrecy: His fear of being dumped. That Carlos could just break up with him if he urged him too much, fed up with his desperate attempts to persuade him into something he didn’t want.

Or would he do so, anyway? For the sake of his career at Ferrari?

Was their little something here doomed to fail on from the first day and their time was ticking? What if Carlos was already growing tired of the whole drama anyway and it only was a matter of time until he had enough? Until he decided that he couldn’t do this anymore and would leave him for a nice girl again, choosing the less problematic way?

The thought alone made Lando feel so very sick.

Reflexively, he clenched his fingers around the sink, seeking hold while he tried to keep his rampaging insides under control. And while he was standing there, trying his hardest not to vomit from heartache and instead to focus on his breathing, the music that was still playing on his earphones mercilessly broke into his head.

 _Hopelessly, I love you endlessly…,_ he heard the unknown artist sing, with his voice full of pain and despair in these actually so beautiful and affectionate words. _Hopelessly, I give you everything - but I won’t give you up… I won’t let you down…_

Maybe it was because it had been a long day (or because of the _overall stressful_ past few days!), or maybe because Lando had been forced to deal with this mental torment alone for so long now - but at those lyrics, he just lost it. Before he knew, a sob escaped from his throat, a distraught and dolorous sound that came right from deep, deep inside of him and was even audible over the music.

Hastily, he covered his mouth with his hand, in the endeavour to choke off any more suspicious noises, while new tears welled up from his eyes, blurring his vision and unleashing everything he had locked deep in himself for so long.

These lyrics from the song had been the final straw - they fit agonisingly perfect to how he felt: Despite all anger and frustration, despite all the pain the last months of constant secretiveness had caused him and how he meanwhile was at the end of his rope with his nerves, despite _everything_ \- he still loved Carlos with all his heart. Hopelessly, endlessly.

He loved him so much that the mere imagination of losing him one day to the difficult situation that they had somehow got themselves into almost caused him to collapse. He just kept himself on his feet with his other hand frantically holding onto the sink, whereas yet another sob broke from his chest, against his hand, and another and another-

Once the dam had broken, there was no chance to hold back anymore. He _had_ held back for far too long, in fact, had tried to be strong, to _man up,_ as you say; and now it all came back to him, shaking him like a hurricane, making his shoulders quiver heavily under sob after sob, while the tears ran down his cheeks, over his fingers, down into the sink.

And the whole time, the “Grey Skies of London” playlist kept playing in his ears, almost like a taunting musical backdrop adding to his dark feelings, while Lando surrendered to what felt like crying his heart out; so helplessly lost in his pain that he didn’t notice anything around him anymore-

All the more did he flinch when, all of a sudden, two arms wrapped around his belly from behind, pulling his back against a warm chest and hugging him tightly. Instantly, Lando froze. Despite a first split second of shock, he of course knew who it was, even without looking up - who else should it be?

But it was not only because of logical reasons, but also because of the feeling of familiarity that the muscular figure hugging him from behind provoked in him: The way that their bodies fit together like long lost pieces from the same puzzle, how his upper body fit perfectly between Carlos’ arms.

How his boyfriend’s beard stubbles scratched the sensitive skin on his neck a little as he rested his chin on his shoulder, carefully leaning in with his head, nosing his cheek.

His familiar scent. The pleasant warmth radiating from his body.

All combined, it was a sensation that Lando knew so well by now, and that he had even more grown fond of, a feeling that he loved more than anything else; and under different circumstances, he would without hesitation have just turned around and thrown himself right at Carlos, soaking in the comfort that only he could give him, hiding from the world in his arms until it all was good again-

But not today.

Today, none of the comforting effect that Carlos usually had on him got through to Lando. Instead, the two arms around his torso only made him uncomfortable, felt downright suffocating instead of soothing; and Lando felt his whole body tense up out of reflex, even holding his breath, not daring to move only one bit.

It was all just too much, too close to feel good, especially when the stubbly cheek next to his own shifted a little and a soft kiss was pressed onto his skin wet from tears.

It was surely intentioned as a loving, apologizing gesture; but whereas Lando wouldn’t have had to be asked twice before and would have anytime gladly taken such an invitation to snuggle into his boyfriend’s embrace, it now only caused him to squint his eyes even more with discomfort and he found himself best wanting to just run away from this situation.

Carlos’ desperate attempts to dry his tears made him cringe inside. Because the Spaniard should know that he couldn’t comfort him when he was also the reason why he was sad - except with the very one thing that he’d never do: Committing to him, fully. Truthfully sticking to his side.

And as long as the older one wasn’t ready to do so and Lando couldn’t be sure if he really meant all the unspoken oaths of love that he tried to convey to him through his hug, or if Carlos was just performing damage control here - until that he just couldn’t stand him so close. He couldn’t _allow_ him to be so close, for his own sake.

Because today’s disappointment hurt too much as that he could take it again only once more, or to even just overlook it in the future. Lando definitely knew that he could do neither of that, but also that he’d sooner or later give in still, if he stayed here only a bit longer. If he allowed Carlos to look at him with _that_ special look from his chocolate brown eyes that he always fell for.

Lando knew, because he had let him get away with it and a few sweet nothings that the older one would whisper to him in order to soothe his chagrin far too many times.

But this time, he had to be strict. This time, he had to save himself any more pain.

And so, before his boyfriend’s near could make him relent again, Lando curtly broke away from the embrace, almost pushing off the two arms from around his body, before he, with the surprise effect on his side, hastily grabbed his phone from the washbasin and fled from the bathroom, leaving a perplexed Carlos behind alone.

***

The Spaniard’s heart felt as heavy as a sack of stones when he gazed after Lando - or more precisely, looked at the half-open bathroom door, through which the younger one had just disappeared without a word.

And while a part of Carlos still believed that he’d come back in a few seconds and would crash right into his arms, as his boyfriend sometimes could be a little stubborn and liked to play tough at first, not wanting to admit how much he actually needed a hug after a tough racing weekend - the way bigger part in him knew that this time, it wasn’t like this.

It felt different, so much different - starting already with that it hadn’t been just the few reflexive tears of frustration over a messed up race that Lando had shed. No, these tears had been so much bitterer, coming from deeper down, carrying so much more pain than a bad qualifying or anything could ever cause-

Carlos closed his eyes as the guilt loaded itself onto his shoulders. It was obvious that these tears had been about him. He, and only him, was the reason for them; he and that old topic again, the problem that they had been dealing with for so long now and still hadn’t found the adequate solution for - if such one existed at all. The balancing act for something between privacy and openness.

The Spaniard was aware of how much Lando wanted to make their relationship public and that it bothered him that they couldn’t do so yet - he wasn’t blind, of course he had seen the disappointment in his eyes already in the living room, even though the younger one had made great efforts to hide it behind a facade of anger. But, fuck, he had in no way expected it to be _this_ bad!

If he had known - if he had only known that Lando was literally just standing a few meters away from him, crying his heart out, he would fore sure have not been sitting idle in the living room like nobody’s business! Dang it, he wouldn’t even have let him run off to the shower after all!

Like, clearly, it had only been an excuse to escape the situation, Carlos had known that in the second it happened, but still, he had hoped that some warm water from above would soothe his boyfriend’s nerves, as it at least usually worked well for himself.

Wanting to give Lando some time to himself, he so had stayed in the living room instead of going after him and had been patiently waiting for his _cariño_ to finish his shower in peace and then come back, while the Spaniard’s own mind had been circling around the latest events - and in the silence of the empty room, he had suddenly felt quite bad about his reaction to the whole home-screen-thing.

Of course it hadn’t been his intention to upset Lando or anything; and it had only been his natural protection instincts kicking in, eager on preventing that just one little mistake could ruin everything they had built over the last months-

But when he had been completely on his own in the living room, he slowly, but surely had felt like he had overreacted a little and that he needed to apologise to Lando.

Maybe, he had thought, they could talk about it again and he could explain to the younger one in calmer words why he was skeptical about using this picture as his home-screen.

And as much as he usually preferred to avoid this topic, because Lando always got quite… _engaged_ in these discussions, he had felt like it had become inevitable now. Because never before had they yelled at each other, not even in total frustration after a bad race or a stressful day at the track; and Carlos definitely didn’t like this new route their relationship was about to take-

No, his mind had been quite made up: He had wanted to apologise to Lando, and explain his point of view again. Right after his shower.

…however, _›a shower‹_ was not a very specific time range and after a while, where Carlos had just been motionlessly sitting on the couch, watching the two steaming cups of tea in front of him cool down totally untouched, he was wondering where had Lando got to.

It had also been the first time that the Spaniard had noticed how long taking a shower could feel, if you wait for someone else to be done with it, and he had subconsciously wondered what the average duration was - fifteen minutes, twenty? Less? Or more, taking into account that Lando had been really stressed?

He’d had no idea, but he also hadn’t wanted to rush the younger one, because that would certainly not have been beneficial to his mood - quite the contrary, rather; and making Lando even angrier had been the least of Carlos’ intentions before asking him to forgive him.

So he had just waited on.

But after a while of likely another ten minutes, which had felt easily at least twice as much, he had got slightly worried, though; and when he had checked his phone for the time, he had been shocked to see that Lando had been gone for almost fourty minutes then - which was definitely longer than the average shower took.

And because there suddenly had been this bad feeling in his gut, almost like a sense of foreboding, the Spaniard had curtly got up from the couch and had made his way over to the bathroom as well, wanting to check on his boyfriend, if he was alright:

“Lando?”, he had asked carefully, knocking on the door; unable to hear any water running anymore. “Hey, are you-”

But before he could have even finished saying his question, it had already got answered, when he had heard the muffled whimpers coming from behind the door wood - a sound that had gone right through him, piercing marrow and bone and proving his presentiment to be true.

_Lando!_

Without hesitation, Carlos had pushed the handle down and pulled the door open (luckily it hadn’t been locked!)… and there he had been, Lando, his boyfriend, his _cariño,_ his love - crying in front of the mirror, his face buried in one of his hands while the other had been clutching the sink, and trembling all over with sobs.

It had been a gut-wrenching sight, the worst Carlos had ever, ever had - alone the trembling, his heaving shoulders… looking as if his small body had literally been about to collapse.

Lando hadn’t heard him coming in, because he, as Carlos had only noticed on the second glance, had been wearing his earphones and apparently listening to music, but it had only given the Spaniard more time to let this awful view sink it, in every shocking detail.

Never before had he seen his boyfriend so heartbroken; and all the more did he hate himself in hindsight for that he had allowed things to escalate that much. Just because a stupid home screen photo…

Fuck, he hadn’t wanted to make him cry! He’d never! He had only wanted the two of them to be safe, to make sure that they just didn’t make a mistake on a whim that they might regret later! Better safe than sorry, right?

But yet there he was now, feeling so, _so_ sorry for having caused his boyfriend so much pain - he had not only seen, but also felt it, in every tensed muscle in Lando’s body, when he had curtly wrapped his arms around him in his helplessness. Every bit of the younger one had seemed to aching and the mere memory of it made Carlos’ chest cramp.

He loved Lando! He truly did; loved him like he had never loved anyone else before, and if this had only been about the two of them, he wouldn’t have hesitated to show his admiration for his favourite Briton out to the world, not one second-

But they couldn’t just do so in their particular life situation. Not when it had the potential to endanger everything that they had been working for for all their lives - namely their racing careers.

He knew that Lando was steadfast of the opposite, like, that it would only turn things to the better if they made their relationship public - but who could grant them it’d be this way? What if it wouldn’t get better, but worse? In ways that neither of them could foresee now?

And what if might not or not only caused harm to their racing careers, but also to themselves as persons? - and talking of “harm”, he didn’t mean it figuratively. Everybody knew that homosexuality was still not accepted all over the world and that there were still a lot of old-fashioned beliefs out there, and even more threatening: people who would also put these beliefs into action.

So what if they might get into concrete trouble abroad for being a couple, since the Formula 1 circus did also travel to such countries, where being gay was not only a sin, but even illegal? Of course Carlos didn’t expect to get imprisoned right after the chequered flag, the safety shield of the FIA would prevent that - but what if some “fans” decided to take matters in hand themselves and make clear that they were not welcome to their country in their own way?

Or even further, what if they had not just to fear open disapproval abroad, but also in England or Spain, with the conservative movements currently on the rise again?

And this was clearly not just about how long their teams would be willing to deal with such extra-trouble (that nobody needed on a racing weekend), before they’d finally have enough and drop them, but all the more about how long _Lando and himself_ would be able to defy it - or if they could at all. To be honest, Carlos wasn’t so sure about either of them in that regard…

_¡Mierda!_

Once more, like so often in the past six months, Carlos found himself mentally cursing their occupations and the public interest that came along with it and wishing for a normal life instead, with a boringly normal office job and doing racing just as a hobby - and most importantly, nobody minding what he did in his private life…

But even then: The thought of making himself vulnerable in any way to anyone made him shudder with discomfort. He was brought up with quite clear views of how a man should be and behave; above all, that he had always to be strong and fearless, to not show any weakness - and as much as he hated it, but these days, being gay _was_ seen as a weak spot. Something that made you lose your masculinity.

And he didn’t want that, especially not in his father’s eyes. Above all, he was scared that Carlos sr., who lived up to the traditional Spanish image of a husband and father to one hundred percent and had raised him to be the same, might not see him as a man anymore afterwards - that he might think of him as a wimp and not the son he used to have anymore.

And although a low voice in his head reminded him that this was still _his dad_ he was thinking about, who had been loving and supporting him through his whole racing career so far and who he could hardly imagine to be so bigoted and hidebound that he would repudiate him for loving Lando - but Carlos just couldn’t help being afraid of his reaction still, whilst at the same time, he hated himself for it. Especially because Lando didn’t deserve to be treated as a blemish to his manliness.

The guilty conscience and the wish to make up for everything became so heavy in this moment, that he curtly switched off the light in the bathroom and went after Lando, in the hope that some nightly cuddles would ease the torment they both were suffering from-

However, when he tapped into the hallway, his heart sunk even deeper, into unknown depths, because he was too late: The door to his (…well, _their,_ at the moment) bedroom was still open and the bed was empty, while the other door leading to the only alibi-wise prepared guest room was now closed, for the first time since Lando was here.

Carlos swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat, as it dawned on him that his favourite Briton would not sleep all nestled to his side tonight as usually.

This time, Lando hadn’t left him in the bathroom in the endeavour just to come across tougher and manlier, whilst at the same time actually wishing for nothing more than that Carlos would see through the facade and take him in his arms still, like so often. No, looking at the closed guest room door, Carlos realised that this time, the younger one was serious. He really did not want any company, the wooden barrier between them was an unmistakable hint - and yet, for a second, Carlos thought about joining him still, as he just couldn’t _believe_ that Lando, who always enjoyed their cuddles so much, would really _really_ not want him close-

But then he remembered how his boyfriend had first frozen solid under his touch and then wriggled out of the embrace without even looking at him; and his hand slipped off the handle all by itself. No company for the night for neither of them, definitely.

Gulping down a painful sigh, the Spaniard gave the door one last, almost yearning look, because in this moment, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to just hold his boyfriend in his arms and remind him of how much he loved him, kissing every inch of his body to make his pain go away, at last-

Before he then, with sagging shoulders, turned away and dragged himself back to the living room, where he spiritlessly slumped on the couch and spent the next hour just gazing into space, while his thoughts were rapidly circling around how the hell he could make up for the pain he had caused his boyfriend - and, more importantly, wether Lando would also let him or if he’d be too late again and the door between them would stay closed forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! ♥ (If so, you are very welcome to let me know in a comment!)
> 
> P.S. The song Lando listens to is “Endlessly” by Muse (hence the title). Great song from a great band, who never fails to inspire me ♥  
> Check the song out if you really want to embrace the dark feelings of Lando’s mirror scene :)


End file.
